Sarah's Duke: and Ellie's Gentleman (The heir and the spare, book 1) by Georgiana Louis Page B
Authors: Georgiana Louis
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Sarah asked, using John’s name intentionally and turning towards him. “I believe the opera is about to start and I would not want to miss any of it.”
John smirked and held out his arm again.
“Shall we see you at the interval, Oliver?” John asked Oliver with a raised eyebrow.
“If you do not mind, I might stay here. My mother tends to snore through the second half.”
A shiver danced along Sarah’s spine. How would she relax with him here?
****
Intermission arrived and Lord John and Lady Charlotte both made excuses to leave the box. Sarah watched Oliver carefully when they asked if she’d like to join them and he didn’t move. So right or wrong, she chose to stay.
She was a little surprised that her friends left them alone unchaperoned, but it was an open box, people could clearly see them and the lights were on.
The minute they were alone, Oliver moved into the empty seat beside her.
“So tell me the real reason you stayed at home for the past week.”
“Your Grace, I do not believe that topic is in the realm of polite conversation. Shall we discuss the opera or would you like to talk about the weather?” Sarah asked, with a deliberately false flutter of her eyelashes.
Sarah knew Oliver was a duke but he was acting like one of her five year old cousins. He had the nerve to question her when she was the one who was owed an apology? Well, she wasn’t standing for it.
Oliver’s eyes narrowed at her tone.
“It’s Oliver, do not ‘Your Grace’ me, I don’t like it.”
“Oh, are you sure you want to admit to being entitled to the title? It would be the first time you told me about it.” A hint of anger was creeping into her voice now too and she didn’t care. Her belly was tightening and her hands were clenched in her lap.
His face fell. “I should have told you when we first met. I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders slumped and the tightness receded. He seemed genuine and it tugged at her heart.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I only came into the title a year ago and I don’t feel like a duke. It’s not right.”
“I’m sorry about your brother, Oliver, and your father too. How horrible for you.” She placed her hand in his, the warmth of his skin passing though their gloves.
“Thank you,” Oliver choked out.
“It must have been horrible to lose both of them in the same day.” Sarah whispered again, looking into his eyes for the first time and seeing the tears shimmering in the beautiful brown depths.
Oliver nodded slowly.
“My twenty-fifth birthday.” He choked out, trying valiantly to hold in the tears that were threatening again.
Sarah gasped and lifted her arms to embrace him.
She stopped herself before she touched him, noting the interested looks they were receiving from the surrounding boxes and the people below.
“Come with me,” she whispered, moving into the darkest corner of the booth. It was concealed from everyone and would allow her time to do what she wanted to do. She pulled a chair from the last row and set it in the corner.
Oliver stood up, moving slowly up to her, a confused frown on his face.
“Sit down,” she commanded, pointing to the chair.
He sat.
Sarah placed his hands on her waist, pulled his head to her bosom and wrapped her slim arms around him.
Sarah soon began to regret her instinctive reaction as Oliver went stiff in her arms. He needed comfort and this was how she was used to giving it. It was either too late in his life to learn how to be held, or too late in his grieving to be consoled.
Sarah pulled back and placed her hands around his jaw. Lifting his face to hers she whispered, “I am so sorry for your loss,” and brought her lips down onto his.
She felt the shiver sweep through Oliver and knew she’d chosen the right way to let him know how she felt.
His lips were warm and soft, and she held there as long as she could. Pulling away reluctantly she looked back into his eyes and saw a change. Something smoky and
John smirked and held out his arm again.
“Shall we see you at the interval, Oliver?” John asked Oliver with a raised eyebrow.
“If you do not mind, I might stay here. My mother tends to snore through the second half.”
A shiver danced along Sarah’s spine. How would she relax with him here?
****
Intermission arrived and Lord John and Lady Charlotte both made excuses to leave the box. Sarah watched Oliver carefully when they asked if she’d like to join them and he didn’t move. So right or wrong, she chose to stay.
She was a little surprised that her friends left them alone unchaperoned, but it was an open box, people could clearly see them and the lights were on.
The minute they were alone, Oliver moved into the empty seat beside her.
“So tell me the real reason you stayed at home for the past week.”
“Your Grace, I do not believe that topic is in the realm of polite conversation. Shall we discuss the opera or would you like to talk about the weather?” Sarah asked, with a deliberately false flutter of her eyelashes.
Sarah knew Oliver was a duke but he was acting like one of her five year old cousins. He had the nerve to question her when she was the one who was owed an apology? Well, she wasn’t standing for it.
Oliver’s eyes narrowed at her tone.
“It’s Oliver, do not ‘Your Grace’ me, I don’t like it.”
“Oh, are you sure you want to admit to being entitled to the title? It would be the first time you told me about it.” A hint of anger was creeping into her voice now too and she didn’t care. Her belly was tightening and her hands were clenched in her lap.
His face fell. “I should have told you when we first met. I’m sorry.”
Her shoulders slumped and the tightness receded. He seemed genuine and it tugged at her heart.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I only came into the title a year ago and I don’t feel like a duke. It’s not right.”
“I’m sorry about your brother, Oliver, and your father too. How horrible for you.” She placed her hand in his, the warmth of his skin passing though their gloves.
“Thank you,” Oliver choked out.
“It must have been horrible to lose both of them in the same day.” Sarah whispered again, looking into his eyes for the first time and seeing the tears shimmering in the beautiful brown depths.
Oliver nodded slowly.
“My twenty-fifth birthday.” He choked out, trying valiantly to hold in the tears that were threatening again.
Sarah gasped and lifted her arms to embrace him.
She stopped herself before she touched him, noting the interested looks they were receiving from the surrounding boxes and the people below.
“Come with me,” she whispered, moving into the darkest corner of the booth. It was concealed from everyone and would allow her time to do what she wanted to do. She pulled a chair from the last row and set it in the corner.
Oliver stood up, moving slowly up to her, a confused frown on his face.
“Sit down,” she commanded, pointing to the chair.
He sat.
Sarah placed his hands on her waist, pulled his head to her bosom and wrapped her slim arms around him.
Sarah soon began to regret her instinctive reaction as Oliver went stiff in her arms. He needed comfort and this was how she was used to giving it. It was either too late in his life to learn how to be held, or too late in his grieving to be consoled.
Sarah pulled back and placed her hands around his jaw. Lifting his face to hers she whispered, “I am so sorry for your loss,” and brought her lips down onto his.
She felt the shiver sweep through Oliver and knew she’d chosen the right way to let him know how she felt.
His lips were warm and soft, and she held there as long as she could. Pulling away reluctantly she looked back into his eyes and saw a change. Something smoky and
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